Chapter 10 #3
“ Aside from my meds… I like to read, watch comfort shows; the ones I’ve seen a hundred times with no jump scares and little drama. I also… watch cartoons. D-Don’t judge me,” I said quickly, eyes flicking away. “It’s… calming and h-helps quiet my head when everything else feels loud.”
He raised both hands, voice even. “No judgment here. I’m just listening and trying to get an understanding.”
“I also look at old modeling magazines. I… I don’t even read them half the time. I just f-flip through the pictures and let my brain settle. And music… slow, vibey stuff. Old-school Brandy, Sade… or just soundscapes, like ocean water,” I explained.
Imanio nodded again—more thoughtful that time. It was like he was storing the answers instead of silently questioning them.
“Okay. That helps.”
Helps what? I wondered.
I eyed him warily. “ Why are you being so... concerned all of a sudden?”
“Because I can’t expect you to feel safe if I’m part of what’s making you feel on edge and setting your tics off,” he answered with a quiet steadiness.
For a moment, we just sat there as two broken pieces, trying not to scrape each other too hard.
“I’ll have you know you still had no… no right to turn my phone off!” My arm jerked slightly, and my head snapped in a quick motion I couldn’t control.
Imanio didn’t raise his voice; instead, he sat up straighter, his posture exuding calm confidence while his gaze remained keen and penetrating, as if he were dissecting my every thought.
“Why is your phone so important to you?” he asked.
“Why is yours?” I shot back.
The words escaped my lips with surprising ease, the tension between us crackling like electricity.
Imanio blinked, momentarily caught off guard, his expression shifting to something unreadable.
If I didn’t know better, I would have guessed he was surprised—surprised that I was holding my ground and matching his intensity instead of faltering under his scrutiny.
“You must got a lil' boyfriend or something?” he asked, tone casual, though it almost sounded like... jealousy.
“N-No. I don’t have a boyfriend. I—” I cut myself off.
My hands fidgeted at my sides, fingers curling inward instinctively, like they were trying to hide from the conversation.
“Why w-would that even matter?”
“Because,” he replied, voice darker now, “if you’re calling or texting some nigga while living in my crib, drinking my tea, sleeping in my bed, then yeah, it matters.”
“S-Sounds a bit jealous. And what… what about you?” My voice pitched up against my will. “I’m sure you have a g-girlfriend. If so, you shouldn’t be asking for my hand in marriage!”
Imanio tilted his head slightly, the muscle in his jaw shifting slow.
“ If I had a girlfriend,” he explained, enunciating every word like he was laying down the law, “you’d know.
You’d hear her moaning through the walls…
late at night. You’d smell her perfume on my shirts.
I wouldn’t be missing work to track down your panic attacks or watching the damn cameras every two hours just to make sure you’re still breathing.
I wouldn’t be here with you right now, arguing about phones like we’re something real. ”
I didn’t know if I wanted to cry, scream, or slap him. My heart was pulling in too many directions—and none of them made sense. I had to change the subject before I let myself spiral over the image of him with another woman.
Why that even bothered me? I couldn’t explain… not even to myself.
“And y-your bed, you say?” I snapped, voice rising.
“Y-You said that like I’m some stray you rescued off the s-street!
Like, I was homeless before I came here!
I’m… I’m only here b-because I was told I had to be!
You think I’m curled up under your sheets writing diary entries a-about how thoughtful your hostage plan is? !”
Imanio exhaled—slow, sharp, like he was chewing down something he wanted to spit.
“You really wanna do this right now?” he asked, leaning back in his chair like we were some long-term couple and that was just another Wednesday argument—like the back-and-forth, the biting tone, the accusations were all routine and he was getting tired of it.
“I’m… not doing anything except trying to keep what l-little sanity I have left! And yeah, maybe I don’t have a boyfriend, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a right to contact someone ! I… I need to call my Uber driver,” I added, voice peaking nervously.
Imanio’s stare was soft, but not kind.
“Naji,” he said, calmer than I expected. “I told you already… you can’t leave.”
“No!” The word shot out of me like it had been waiting on the edge of my tongue all day.
A tic punched out in my left hand as my shoulders bounced again.
“Tater tots in a tuxedo!”
The outburst came sharp and loud, nonsense but forceful, tearing straight through the moment like a slap to the silence.
I closed my eyes briefly, grounding myself as my fingers twitched at my sides. Then my voice softened, trembling under the weight of too much truth.
“She takes me b-back and forth to work. Sometimes she doesn’t even charge me. Just says, ‘Let me get you there safe, baby girl.’ That’s not j-j-just a ride; that’s somebody who g-gives a damn! And I ain’t got many people like that in my life. I-I know she’s worried about me, okay?” I explained.
Imanio’s expression shifted—just a little—softened like something clicked.
“There’s a house phone in the kitchen. You can use it… with supervision.”
I scoffed.
“Look, Naji, I’m not trying to make this harder than it has to be. But I have to earn your trust first. Once I do, I’ll turn your phone back on… maybe. It all depends on you.”
A tic hit before I could answer. “Hostage hospitality—real five-star service. Fancy shack!”
Imanio chuckled under his breath but didn’t comment.
“Whatever. Y-You have a beautiful house, by the way,” I complimented awkwardly, my fingers tapping uncontrollably against my thigh.
“Preciate it,” he replied, tone neutral but not cold. “And just so you know… you’re not a prisoner here… at least not around the estate. You’re free to roam as you please.”
“Oh, wow!” I exaggerated. “F-Freedom within the golden gates! H-How progressive of you! I just can’t leave here, huh?”
“Not alone; either me or security goes with you. That’s the rule.”
“Locked in luxury!” I grumbled. “Designer j-jail cell, courtesy of Imanio Kors.”
“See!” Imanio pointed at me like I’d just proven his entire case. “ Blurting shit like that is exactly why you can’t leave! Hell, maybe that wasn’t a tic; maybe you were saying how you really felt.”
“No—it was a tic! Although t-true! Like… my real thoughts come out before I can catch them, and my mouth don’t ask for permission first. I’m not always in control of when the truth spills out. Doesn’t mean I meant to say it out loud… doesn’t mean I didn’t mean it either. It’s.. it’s complicated.”
I rolled my eyes in annoyance, dragging my gaze away from him and toward the pool. I stared at it for a moment, my thoughts drifting deeper than I meant them to.
Three days. That’s all it had been. Three days since I was just Naji—quiet, working, minding my damn business.
I didn’t hurt nobody or cross nobody. I took my meds, kept my head down, and smiled at strangers even when I didn’t feel like it.
So why did this have to happen to me? Why couldn’t the bad shit find the people out here doing the most?
A sharp breath caught in my chest, and before I even realized what I was doing, my lips parted and whispered low, almost like muscle memory.
"Nana... I don’t know what’s going on, but if you can hear me... just sit with me. Please."
I didn’t ask for deliverance or miracles, just presence. That used to be enough when I was little—her just sitting near me when the world got too loud. I imagined her right then, rocking slow in that worn wooden chair, humming gospel off-key, palm pressed to her chest.
And for a second, the pressure in my chest didn’t feel as heavy. But when I opened my eyes again, I was still there… and so was he.
The fine, rich man who kidnapped me. The man who never raised his voice but somehow made silence feel like a sentence.
The man who made sure I went without my necessities, one minute, then reminded me who was in control the next.
The one I couldn’t figure out—because just when I started to hate him, he’d do something that made my heart pause.
“Do you mind if I smoke?” he asked, voice low.
I wanted to say, It’s your house, but him asking felt so out of place. Oddly enough, I appreciated it.
The small things mattered… especially now.
“Cloudy lungs, light it up, inhale your secrets,” I mumbled . “ No, I don’t mind.”
Imanio gave a single nod and lit the blunt, the smell curling into the air like something familiar in an unfamiliar place.
Out the corner of my eye, I could feel his gaze tracing over me— not in a creepy way, more like… observing.
“I like this clean look on you,” he spoke up, blunt resting between his fingers.
His tone was complimentary with a side of shade.
Classic him.
T-Thank you,” I expressed.
Imanio’s gaze dropped briefly.
“Look, I’m… I’m sorry about all of this. This ain’t how I planned for shit to go either. My intentions weren’t to walk in, kill that nigga, then turn around and kidnap you. That wasn’t the move.”
Imanio exhaled sharply, jaw flexing like he hated even having to explain.
“If I’d known anybody else was there… if I’d known you were there—especially with a condition like yours—I would’ve handled it different. Found another way to take him out. Hell, maybe waited. But shit, it was already in motion.”
It was clear the apology didn’t come easy, and because of that, it held weight.
I just nodded, the tension in my shoulders loosening—just a little.
A moment of quietness followed.
“Th-thank you for getting those items for me,” I said, my tone soft but sincere.
“Welcome.”
I hesitated, then asked, “But why… why did you include the portfolio?”